


Une promenade au jardin des plantes

by ayjee



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:22:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayjee/pseuds/ayjee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grand Duchess introduces her Tevinter guest to the gardens of Halamshiral, and later to the joys of Orlesian partying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title snagged from a sonnet by french poet Alfred de Musset; it (roughly) translates to 'a walk through the botanical gardens'.
> 
> Aeliana is [Tohru's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru) OC and Erimond's younger sister.

“Is it alright? For us to be seen together like this?”

“Why would it not be?”

Erimond sighed, loud enough to be insulting, but the woman next to him merely laughed.

“I would hate to damage your reputation, Grand Duchess.”

She laid a gloved hand on his arm, gently steering him towards the alcove on their left. Once they’d sat, she signaled to her elven servant to leave them.

“Lord Erimond, your thoughtfulness honors you. But if I had to pick between the secrecy of our enterprise and my reputation… the choice would be a quick one, don’t you think?”

He frowned. “So this is our cover? I’m your Tevinter beau?”

“Lady’s breath, no!” Again with that laugh that made his hair stand on end. “You are lord Erimond of Vyrantium, most esteemed magister from faraway Tevinter. The purpose of your visit is purely utilitarian: submit a request to Empress Celene, regarding access to Tevinter ruins. It just so happens that I’ve fallen for your good looks and witty sense of humor.” He could’ve sworn she winked at him, but it was hard to tell for sure with that pesky mask.

“Orlesians love their gossip more than they hate Tevinter,” she added, touching her fan to her chin. “Your stay in Halamshiral should be uneventful.”

“You make it sound like you’re not one of them,” Erimond noted.

The Grand Duchess let out a low chuckle. “I _am_ sitting with you, plotting against the Empire. Make of that what you will.”

They were quiet for a while, gushing water from the fountains below the only noise in the background. Erimond found himself fidgeting on the stone bench. The Orlesian court was not that different from home. But here, he was a foreigner, his name just good enough to be butchered by the nobles.

“So, when can I hope to meet with Empress Celene?”

“Oh, magister.” The Grand Duchess tut-tutted. "You won’t be meeting her in person. A simple petitioner, with no political leverage whatsoever? From Tevinter, no less. You’re here to beg for a favor, while she has nothing to gain from it.”

“I’m hardly begging,” Erimond scoffed. “This is pointless dilly-dallying. I could’ve just gone straight to the Western Approach. And what could the Empire do about it, hm?”

She shut her fan closed with a smug smile. “The question does not arise, does it? Here you are, obeying your master’s orders. We’re all beggars to power, lord Erimond.”

 _What an unpleasant woman,_ Erimond thought. She was right, of course, which only made her more irritating. Everybody craved power. Some were just more open about it. In this regard, he and the Duchess were quite alike. More than Corypheus’ other agents, anyway. Calpernia was a former slave. Samson had just risen from the gutter. What the Elder One even saw in them, Erimond couldn’t fathom. It was not his place to question a god’s decisions… but he had not expected obedience to be so challenging.

“In answer to your earlier question, you will meet one of Celene’s advisors two days from now,” the Grand Duchess resumed. “Yet more dilly-dallying, but you’ll find Orlesians are quite fond of it. And this should make Warden-Commander Clarel that much more willing to meet with you.”

He bowed his head. “I apologize if I was rude before. I do appreciate your help. I’m surprised you know about Clarel, though.”

She motioned to the servant waiting at a distance. “Lord Erimond, one doesn’t simply coast through court life. Here, you have to be one step ahead at all time – or be nothing. But I suspect you know this already. Things can’t be that different in Tevinter.”

“They’re not,” Erimond said, a touch of admiration in his voice. “But not many women have as much interest in politics as you do.”

Even with the mask, it was obvious the smile did not reach her eyes. “You sound so confident. I suppose we’ll have to trust your word on this.”

He rubbed his throat self-consciously, hearing the sarcasm but unsure what had brought it on. Ignoring his embarrassment, she stood up: their interview was over. The servant joined them and raised an umbrella over the Grand Duchess’ head.

They walked in silence through the gardens and back to the palace. But as they passed a luxuriant white rosebush, the Grand Duchess exclaimed in delight. She nodded at her follower, who went to pick some of the prettiest flowers, the umbrella tucked under one arm.

“This reminds me, lord Erimond, you have to see the greenhouses if you haven’t already. It’s quite a sight.”

Erimond bowed deeply, tense at the prospect of spending more time alone with her. “I won’t impose on you any longer, Grand Duchess. I should retire to my quarters, I have some letters to write.”

“An excellent idea,” she said, accepting the flower bunch from her servant. “Write to your loved ones, let them know that your request is in good hands.” As he bent to kiss her extended hand, he was struck with the discrete scent emanating from her. Musk and… Jasmine? The combination made for a divine smell. If she noticed the way his nostrils flared in a less than elegant fashion, she didn’t comment on it. There might have been an amused note in her voice when she asked, “Are you married, lord Erimond?”

“I am not.”

“Pity,” she said flatly. “Marriage and progeny are the greatest joys life can bring, or so I’m told. But you are young still.”

“I suppose,” he said, uneasy; her hand was still resting on his.

She gave it a light squeeze before releasing him. “I will see you at dinner, magister.”

He could feel her gaze on him as he retreated inside the palace. A servant walked him back to his quarters; he sat at the small desk in front of the window with a long sigh. The Grand Duchess seemed to enjoy his company more than he did hers. Might as well write the alleged letters.

First, to Aeliana. She’d made no mystery of her distrust of the Venatori and that forced him to be careful in his wording. Tell enough to satisfy her curiosity, but not so much that she’d worry about him. On the bright side, she could send word of his arrival to Halamshiral to their parents. One less letter to write.

Second, a brief note to inform Corypheus of his progress. Brief and neutral, as the Grand Duchess would no doubt read it before sending it with one of her own ravens.

And lastly, a letter to Demetrius. The greenhouse sounded like something he would have enjoyed and Erimond wished he’d visited the stupid thing after all. Its description would have no doubt interested Metri.

Pushing aside the memory of their last evening in Vyrantium, Erimond set to write.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erimond’s making progress.

Erimond was fidgetting – again. He kept drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Why the man insisted on playing bluffing games with that body language made no sense to Florianne, but then, little about him did.

It wouldn’t do to let him go bankrupt, though.

“It’s unbearably hot in here,” she said, her touch feather-light on his shoulder. “I need some fresh air. Won’t you walk with me, magister?”

Luckily for both of them, he took the hint and excused himself. They crossed the ballroom, whispers and stifled laughter echoing in their wake. As they stepped onto the balcony, she heard him exhale loudly.

“Is something the matter?”

“Why do you allow them to mock you so?” He sounded annoyed. “In Tevinter, it is considered rude to laugh in people’s face. Magic duels have started over less than this.”

She frowned – and then couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, lord Erimond, you don’t mean it! Duke Gontrand and his friends do bark a lot, but they have the bite power of a nug.”

“They were being disrespectful,” Erimond insisted.

“You need to grow a thicker skin, magister.”

“This isn’t about me,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. And then it hit her – he was worried about her getting _hurt_. The ridicule of it left her speechless.

“Anyway,” he said, still not meeting her eyes, “is there anything you wanted to discuss? I was going to win this one.”

She laughed. “No, you were not.”

“I had a good hand.”

“Trust me, I spared you more than humiliation tonight. Have you ever written an acknowledgement of debt? If not, you might want to enrich Lady Périne’s collection.”

Erimond’s brows made a dramatic jump for his hairline. “The comtess?”

“You sound surprised.”

“But she seems so–”

“Old?”  
“I was going to say harmless,” Erimond smirked.

“Because she’s old,” Florianne said. “If anything, that should make you even more cautious. Harmless people do not make it at court. Not without someone to watch their back, anyway.”

“Is that what you’re doing with your brother?”

She smoothed out the front of her dress before replying. “I wouldn’t call Gaspard harmless, not by a long shot. But yes, this is the general idea.” No way Erimond would have learned this by himself. Florianne wondered who had filled him in.

“But enough about me. How did your meeting with Clarel go?”

“As one could expect. She turned me down,” Erimond said, unconcerned. “She’ll come around eventually.”

Florianne hummed approvingly. “The Warden-Commander is nothing if not reasonable. What will become of the Grey Wardens?”

“The soporati will die. The mages will join our cause.”

“Not willingly, I presume.”

“No.”

“Don’t you feel bad about this?”

“No.”

“Some people would call you cruel.”

“But you don’t mind,” Erimond said slowly.

Florianne touched her gloved hand to his cheek. “No, I don’t.”


End file.
